Dance With Destiny
by MySweetestSorrow
Summary: As he finds himself hunted once more, she betrays her own side, caught in a tangle of lies and desires. When promises are broken and blood is shed, how far would they go again for each other when fate had clearly decided that it was never ment to be?
1. Strike Me Numb

**Dance With Destiny **

**Chapter 1**

The countryside was a dark, passing blur of colours as the carriage made its way swiftly along the gravel path that led to the seashore. All was quiet except for the soothing, rhythmic thumping of horse hooves and the gentle blowing of the wind.

Gazing silently out the window, Christine stared at her own ghostly face reflecting back in the darkness. It was long past midnight, and she drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders to ward of the chill, praying for the hundredth time that Raoul would not come to notice her sudden disappearance from her room at the inn. The past week had been a mad frenzy as they travelled from place to place, never staying long, and she wished they'd slowed their pace now that they were already far from Paris. Raoul was anxious to move as fast as possible, and would not be satisfied till they were out of France and far away, as he had decided, in London. In a way she understood his fear-that desperate wish to escape the ghastly shadows of the past which seemed to persue them endlessly every step of the way.

Soon the carriage slowed as the dark blue sea came into view. She opened the door and stepped out into the cool, salty air. The sand felt soft and soothing beneath her tired feet, and requesting that the carriage driver return in an hour, she slowly made her way up a bare, rocky path that led to a low grassy cliff overlooking the ocean. The wind tugged at her hair, its cold, billowy fingers dancing across her skin, making her ascend difficult. She felt herself nearly slip a few times on the damp, seaweed-strewn ground, and reached out wildly, grabbing at the rocky, uneven wall of the steep cliff to keep from falling.

At the top, the gale had died down somewhat but the chill lingered and she drew her coat tightly around her shoulders, lifting her skirt to sit down. Staring at the moonbeams dancing across the water like thousands of precious jewels, she could not help but wonder at the beauty and simplicity of it all. Letting out a sigh, Christine watched as her breath turned to mist before her eyes, fading into the night. Her heart grew troubled once more, as thoughts that had plagued her since that day returned in a maddening rush. The frenzy of emotions tugged at her soul as she bit her lower lip, willing them to disappear and leave her cold and empty. Somehow, she knew her efforts were futile.

Closing her eyes she let her mind drift back... the flames... vividly, greedily devouring the grand structure of the Opera House. Screams rang out in all directions, as Raoul dragged her along the maze of endless corridors and scorching heat, out into the cool night air. She had looked back then... and somehow here she was, still not able to let go. Still looking to the past, to the life she knew now was long gone. He had sent her away and she had left without putting an end to everything. She wished now that she had... instead of leaving things the way they were... she wished she had the chance to understand all that she had felt for him...

There were times when he had provoked such fear in her to the point when she wanted nothing more than to escape him, despite the fact that she knew he could never allow himself to hurt her. And there were those moments when he held her so close, and she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in the moment for an eternity, savouring every breath... every touch, knowing that nothing else on earth would make her feel that way again.

An old memory stirred within her in the midst of her racing thoughts, and in her mind she heard Raoul's voice, laced with exasperation cry out,

_"Why, you love him! Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love, and love of the most exquisite kind. The kind which people don't admit, even to themselves!"_

Those words that had only served to frustrate her back then now bore a whole new meaning. Perhaps it was that. Perhaps it was so plain and simple to see. If he had truly loved her in such a way, then it was that love that had driven him to the brink of insanity. Behind the mask of fury and hatred was a man. As he said, not a ghost, not an angel nor a genious but a man. Erik had shown her that part of him beneath the facade of a monster. And what had she done? Betrayed him, lied to him, and destroyed the one man who had given her life through his music.

She drew a deep breath, now consumed with a new realisation and a sudden burst of self-loathing. He had wanted her with him...

...And she had wanted to stay... for a brief moment, before he had allowed her to take Raoul and leave him alone to the mercy of the approaching mob after she had given him what he never thought she would. The kiss was an act of desperation on her part, it was true. But after the first few moments it had deepened into something more... something driven purely by her sudden and overpowering need to grasp on to him and never let go, and the aching awareness that it would be their first and last. The barriers between them had been broken that night and for once in her lifetime she struggled in a final attempt to pour her heart, mind, and soul out to him, letting the tears flow freely between them in a messy tangle of raw, desperate emotions.

And all that she had done solely by her own will... that was what confused and plagued her the most. It tugged at her heart and conscience every moment she was awake, threatening to break her. Nothing could feel this wrong, and yet, at the same time, so very right.

However, _this_, this was wrong... clinging on when she knew the decision had been made for them... the decision that it was never meant to be from the start.

Would she now spend the rest of her life looking back? Was it possible that she could live a day without replaying those final moments again and again in her head and questioning the future?

Emptiness gnawed harshly at her soul, as the loneliness that she had been fighting to quell slowly returned.

The cold bit at her fingers and she shifted on the rocky ground. How could she be certain that this was what she truly wanted for the rest of her life? Christine twisted the heavy fabric of her cloak in her fingers, shaking her head. This was the only way it could ever be. She would have to pick up the pieces, forget, and start anew.

Reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair aside, the sudden feel of cold wetness on her cheeks surprised her.

She closed her eyes, and despite the torrent of thoughts that raged within her, prayed desperately for strength when inside she felt she had nothing left within her to go on.

* * *

Erik stood silently, staring at his reflection in the black waters of the underground lake. The few remaining candles cast an eerie glow on his scarred features, and once again he was glad of the darkness that hung over his lair like a heavy blanket, hiding the damage which the unmerciful mob had caused. As splinters of wood cracked beneath his feet he moved closer to the edge of the water, staring down at the monster reflected back at him... the face which he would never be able to escape from.

Clenching his fists tightly, he felt the fiery anger once again coursing through his veins and he wished once more to dig his fingers into the soft flesh, tearing away the horror that had been his curse for a lifetime. There was simply no reason for his existence... did God have a purpose for him or was he just another mistake created by a slip of fate?

Silently he cursed that God; the one whom they said would never forsake his children. God was to blame for this... for the face that was now staring back at him mockingly from the watery depths.

He felt his tears once again begin to prick at his eyes. The wave of anger had disappeared as quickly as it came, and he suddenly felt suffocated by the black darkness that enfolded him. He wanted to escape... to forget. He didn't want to feel anymore... the rising sweeps of emotions were unbearable and he couldn't stand them anymore than he could stand the thought of being alone once more.

Loneliness... here, in this darkness, in this hell he was condemned with, it was all he truly ever had. It was his friend, his companion. He would learn to embrace it for it was all he could ever hope to possess. A new wave of exhaustion swept over him... he didn't want to fight anymore... he didn't have to strength to continue or to hold back the tears. Everything was now simply reduced to dust. Nothing more. What difference would it have made any other way?

Letting his gaze linger on the smooth surface of the ring he now held in his open palm, his felt his heartbeat quicken. This was it...a stabbing reminder of what had taken place before. Pain came over him in a mad rush at the sight of it, and he closed his fingers over the tiny object, clutching it tightly in his shaking fist. She had given his love back along with the ring, and the finality of it hurt him more than ever.

His fingers skimmed the cold surface of the water before him, and he lifted his palm over it, watching the ring glimmer in the candlelight. He could put an end to all of it quickly... let the ring sink into the murky depths of the lake, its memories buried forever in the thick blackness. There would be no more Christine... no more love, and no more hope. His life would be empty... meaningless, but at least he would be numb. It was the only comforting thought his mind could bear to conjure in the bleak darkness. There would be nothing left to prove that there was once a time when he had loved and lost...

All he had to do was drop the ring.

His hand trembled and he closed his eyes, willing his fingers to pry themselves from the tiny object. Erik's head throbbed painfully as everything around him seemed to melt away. There was only this... the option was spread openly before him, all he had to do was reach out and take it.

It all happened so fast. In a flash, as fast as he had lifted his hand, he withdrew it, feeling the smothering sensation lift as his world come into view once more.

He couldn't do it... he couldn't. To loose the only reminder he had of her was to deny all that he had once lived and breathed for. He couldn't let it die, now that she was all he had left to love.

Turning away from the lake, he started to make his way through his damaged home once more, picking his way through the debris and soot. He should have hated himself for being a coward, he knew. But somehow, in a way, there had been certain braveness in his accepting the past and not casting it away. For all the wrong that he had ever done, this was his punishment... and his curse was to live with it.

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A/N: Please review... any form of feedback would make my day! 


	2. Sleepless Nights

**Disclaimer:** PotO doesn't belong to me. However, the plot does... unless someone else came up with something similar, which I don't know if anyone had. 

**A/N:** I was a little nervous about posting this second chapter because it introduces a new character and life out of Paris, which is why it took me so long to update. However, I hope you'll like it, and loads of thanks to those who reviewed.

**allegratree:** Thank you sooooo much for being the first to review, and for the compliments. I was really worried about that first chapter and I'm glad to find that they didn't turn out too bad. Poetic? Wow... I've never gotten that before. :)

**bassgoddess:** You liked my writing style? I didn't even know I had one... haha. Thank you!

* * *

**Chapter Two.**

Christine lowered her book, leaning back in the chair as she watched the thin lace curtains flutter back and forth in a graceful dance of waves and whirls. The wind blew softly, a welcome change from the hectic life of London City as she toyed with an edge of the delicate material, gazing out the window of her flat. She'd lost track of the number of nights she spent awake in bed, unable to stem the flow of thoughts coursing through her head. It kept her awake, night after night of worry, fear, and insecurity.

It was just so difficult to picture Raoul and her living like this for the rest of their lives. Everything was so different, so... new, although it had been already a year since they moved in. But she took comfort in knowing that at this point, nothing was final yet... at least not until their wedding day was over. Then there would be no more doubting, for the rest of her life would have been drawn out in perfection, right to the very detail, just like a large painting on a canvas. The exact mixture of shades, tones and textures all planned out for her, and the story of her past would be like the brown, rough surface underneath the brilliant splashes of colours... concealed completely, hidden from view...

A loud rap on the front door brought her out of her daydream. Hurriedly closing the window, she stared around helplessly at the books and writing materials strewn haphazardly all around the room for a moment before padding across the carpet to let the visitor in.

"Elise!" Christine greeted her friend with mild surprise, opening the door wide to let her in. "What brings you here?"

The girl shrugged, surveying the cluttered state of the tiny flat disapprovingly. "Father's let me off work at the inn early today," She dug deep into one of her coat pockets, "I was hoping you'd like to watch tonight's show," in her hand she held two crumpled theatre tickets.

"Elise, you really didn't have to..."

"I meant, if you were free this evening, of course," the girl added hastily, noticing the look on her friend's face.

"Oh no, it's just... I wasn't expecting any company tonight, but... I suppose I could," Christine smiled, reaching down to tidy the pile of books on her table. When she looked up, she couldn't suppress a small laugh at Elise's brightening countenance. "When does the show start?"

"In two hours, but we'd better hurry if we don't want to get caught in the crowd."

Christine hesitated for a minute, her eye on a pile of papers. Tearing her eyes away, she sighed. "Alright then." Reaching for her purse, she turned to Elise. "How much do I owe you?"

"They're free," The girl replied simply. "A friend of father's gave them to me. He wanted to take his wife, but she fell ill this afternoon, and of course he wouldn't want to go alone." She grabbed Christine's arm, "We should get moving befo-"

"Wait," Christine gently twisted her arm free. Just let me get my cloak." She disappeared into her room, and upon reemerging, found Elise already down by the street, hailing a carriage.

* * *

The smooth flow of music was put to an abrupt end as Erik lashed out at the messy sheets before him, ripping them to pieces. He watched silently as the scraps floated gently to the ground, resting softly amongst the thousand others that littered the floor. He set his jaw, resisting the swelling urge to slam his fist onto the keyboard as he reached out and placed yet another stack of manuscript sheets on the stand before him... another work in progress. The hundreds of tiny black notes dancing across rows and rows of staves disgusted him. Lilting notes and booming bass chords seemed to him incoherent noise in his head, smothering and clouding his thoughts.

When would it all end? Day after day as he sat in the deafening silence for hour upon hour, staring blankly at the maze of black and white swimming before his eyes... and the rare, frenzied seconds when the music flowed freely once more as he hastily dipped his pen in ink, scribbling rushed melodies, laying down another piece of work... another masterpiece perhaps.

Another masterpiece.

But no, they never were.

His music had lost its soul, its heart. It sang, but never bled... never burned...

Not any more.

Strange, ugly melodies would greet his gaze... barely coherent...and he would stare. What else could he do? Stare... hating every part of it. The rising crescendos and falling diminuendos would appear to him clumsy phrases and pointless chord progressions. It was plain. He had lost his muse... his inspiration... his genius.

She had robbed him of all that. Christine Daaé was the cause of his fall. His defeat. She had brought all his dreams to a crashing, painful end.

Erik lifted a trembling hand and slowly, painfully, shut the organ, wishing that he could shut off the memory of her as easily as that. The memory that had brought upon him so many sleepless nights.

Those days of long ago now were still fresh in his mind, so close he could almost taste it and relieve those precious seconds all over again. It was during those moments when she was so near to him that he was certain that the mere aura of her presence was enough to completely sustain him... those fleeting seconds of joy, barely enough... only to be shattered with pangs of guilt for he knew that no matter how much he wanted her, he knew inside that it could never work. He was wasting his time pouring all his hope into something that could never be, although he could never bring himself to deny to obvious fact that all he'd ever wanted... and needed was her, and her alone.

There had been a time when her presence was his drive, his muse... when her voice alone could lift his music from the dark depths whence it came... soaring high above all other melodies ever created... it was his music... the music of heaven glimpsed by men through the song of an angel.

* * *

The show was excellent, and as the performers took their bows, Christine applauded with the cheering audience despite not having understood a single word. Emerging from the theatre, Elise talked non-stop all the way to her father's inn, having managed to coax Christine into a late supper.

Now, seated comfortably in a corner of the dining room, the two friends spoke in whispers as servants bustled around in the kitchen, clearing up for the night. The fire was burning low, and all was silent except for the occasional crackling of the flames.

"Christine, you certainly must get out more often," Elise fiddled with a corner of the checked tablecloth. "With the wedding just round the corner, you'll be so busy once its over." Lifting a steaming mug of tea to her lips, she took a sip. "A vicomtesse..." She mused, glancing at Christine. "It all seems quite surreal."

Christine nodded, "I know." She stared into her cup. "It appears we'll be in London for good, now that Raoul's running his family business here."

"And that is a bad thing?"

"Elise... it's just that here, everything is so different. The people, the language... everything." Christine sighed. "And there I was, a year ago, thinking that it would be so easy to just settle in and..."

Elise smiled reassuringly. "I've been there before, Christine. But things will change after the wedding, you know that."

Christine nodded. Although she would never readily admit it, the wedding was all she had managed to think of and worry about lately.

Elise stared at her for a moment before continuing slowly, "One more week before the big day. What about your friends from Paris? Will they be attendi-"

Christine cut her off, "No, no... they won't be here." She made to continue but was suddenly at a loss for words. How was she to explain the situation and at the same time avoid the flood of questions that she felt certain were coming? She fell silent, sensing Elise's gaze upon her, waiting. Slowly, she continued. "Elise, what I meant was... there are some people whom Raoul and I would rather avoid meeting... I mean..." she sighed. "It's just awkward." Christine drew a deep breath, "To tell the truth, none of them really know where we are at the moment."

Elise's eyes grew wide. "You never told me..."

"You never asked."

"But Christine...why?" She demanded.

"There are some things better left buried," Christine replied in a low voice, refusing to meet her friend's gaze. Despite her attempt to keep a blank face, her look and composure betrayed her feelings, and Elise, forced to remain silent, was certain that there was more to it than her friend was letting on.

Christine put out the lamps in her room and sat at the edge of her bed, her head bowed. Her conversation with Elise that night had left her plagued with new troubles and insecurities. The past had to be left behind, yet... her father was a part of it as well. He was gone... but never to her. Perhaps it was the only memory she couldn't bear to loose along with everything else. She would never allow the image of his face to be erased from her mind... she couldn't bear to.

A strange weakness seized her as she sat hunched, her eyes fixed on her floor between her feet, and

all of a sudden, she was filled with a yearning to see him again. But she knew it was madness to even think of it. Madness, just like the crazy thoughts in her mind. A year ago, she would have gone to his grave, amongst the silent tombs where no one would hear her. It had been a place where she could pour fourth her innermost feelings without the fear of being overheard or mocked in return. It had been her sanctuary, her secret hiding place.

If only she could be there again...

Clutching the covers beneath her, Christine fought the urge to snort at the absurdity of it all... all those illogical, crazy ideas in her head. Why, it seemed nearly insane to want to return to Paris... and yet, it was all she could think of in the stifling darkness.

She had made mistakes in the past, mostly out of fear and cowardliness. Some had even cost her more than she would dare to admit, and fear of making another wrong move was what kept her mind fixed upon that thought.

She'd lost so much already...

Christine felt a surge of determination course through her mind. This time would be different. She wouldn't back out. She wouldn't let herself be frightened or act like a child and take the easy way out...

It wasn't worth it.

Getting to her feet, she made her way to her closet and retrieved a travelling case. This time, her mind had been made.

She would return to Paris in the morning.

* * *

**A/N:** That's it for now... thanks a lot for reading and please, please review!


	3. Whisper

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from The Phantom of the Opera. 

**A/N:** Okay, here it is, the next chapter, and a big thank you to all those who reviewed the previous one.One thingthough,I'm having trouble putting words in bold or italics... help would be very much appreciated.

**InuLvr7:** Thank you! That was so nice... glad to have inspired you in some way or other.

**Zanee:** You're welcome, and thanks for reviewing! Glad you liked it.

**phantomann:** I spent ages working on that particualr part, so... I'm really happy to see that someone liked it!

**La Romantique Perdue:** Thanks for reviewing! And aboout that phrase, which one did you mean exactly?

* * *

**Chapter 3**

The heavy wooden doors creaked as Christine pushed them open, stepping from the glowing warmth of the inn out into the wintry morning. Tiny snowflakes flitted to the ground around her as she stood for a moment, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. Here she was, in the last place she thought she'd be - Paris. Arriving the night before, tired and stiff from hours of travelling, she hardly had time to take it all in. But now, standing by the street, the mass of familiar places and people all around her, she could no longer deny the fact that no matter how many miles she placed between the city and herself, Paris would always be home to her.

Walking for a short distance up the street, she made a right turn towards the nearby stables, a hint of a smile upon her lips. By evening she would be on her way back to England, two days before Raoul's return from Italy, and she could act like she'd been safe at home in London all the while. He didn't have to know...

She could not risk him ever doubting her loyalty... ever.

Approaching the carriage-driver, she pressed a small bag of coins into his palm.

"The cemetery please, Monsieur."

He nodded, counting the money and slipping the coins into his pocket. As he left to retrieve the horses, Christine found herself alone in the quiet. As she stood in the cold, a sudden rush of memory hit her, forcing her mind back to a similar time one year ago. Just as she was about to now, she had been doing something she wasn't supposed to- betraying Raoul's trust and heading for the cemetery without his knowledge, when it had been previously made clear that she was not allowed anywhere outside her room without his company. Even then, her guilt had lasted only for a minute, replaced almost immediately by a strange sense of calm. Perhaps she had known all along, who it was sitting before her, his face shrouded by a black hood. And she went with him even though she knew something was amiss. She had sensed the danger... that feeling of trepidation. Yet she was swept along with it, filled with an undeniable tinge of excitement and boldness. She did not fear him the way she should have...

"Mademoiselle?"

Christine spun around sharply, caught by surprise. Following the man outside, she headed for the carriage, its horses harnessed and ready. Drawing her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she stepped up and settled on the seat as the horses started trotting gently along the snow-covered road. Buildings and shops passed quickly as the pace quickened, and soon the carriage was rumbling slowly through the city.

She stared silently ahead, the cool wind blowing against her face. As they made a left turn onto a wider street, the sudden realisation of where they were dawned on her as her heart seemed to miss a beat. The increasingly familiar sights did not help either, and soon she very well knew which area of the city they would soon be passing through.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as the agonising minutes passed swiftly by.

Dull noises could be heard in the distance, increasing in volume with every second. Then, almost unexpectedly, the horses made a right turn and the magnificent form of the Paris Opera House loomed overhead, the statues upon its rooftop gleaming in the early morning sun. In a single moment, Christine felt all the breath leave her lungs as she stared transfixed at the large structure. Scaffolding had been set up against its sides as workmen busied themselves with the reconstruction of the building's charred facade. More streamed through the wide open doors, hoisting planks and panes of glass.

As the carriage passed slowly by, Christine felt a rush of numbing sadness, taking in the extent of the damage for the first time. The fire had left the outside of the building scorched and blackened, while a number of shattered window panes had yet to be replaced. It seemed only just yesterday that visitors were streaming in through the front doors, dressed to the nines for the opening night of a new season. She recalled vividly the form of the Opera House as it stood out, proud and magnificent with its many lighted windows a stark contrast to the darkening sky.

Gazing into the massive entrance, she didn't feel as if she was looking into the wide open doors. Instead, staring straight back at her were her own painful memories... a succession of images flashing through her mind... images which she had battled to quell for so long. Over the course of a year they had been forced to the very bottom of an aching heart, and now seemed to burst forth again in a massive flood of anguish.

And strange enough, she was unable to tear her eyes away as they involuntarily ran a trail up the edifice, absorbing every shape, every detail, right to the very form of Apollo raising his lyre towards the heavens... stamping all of it firmly in her mind.

Even as she took it all in, she felt something undoubtedly call out softly to her amidst the din. It was soft and haunting, very much like the distant lullabies of the ghosts in her memory. The more she listened the more she was certain it came from within her... gentle tunes... questioning, almost, as her soul ached to delve into the very depths of the massive structure in search of the answer.

She buried her head in her hands.

This had to stop... now.

She strived to mentally reprimand herself, but even as she did so, felt all logic and rationality seep out of her veins. As the gaping doors continued to beckon silently, she felt she would certainly go mad if she did not comply.

Calling out to the driver, she made a hasty excuse and rose from her seat as the carriage slowed to a stop. Ignoring the puzzled look on his face, she gestured vaguely for him to wait and started making her way across the snow covered road towards the Opera House.

The snow crunched beneath her feet as she approached the doors, avoiding the bustling workers. Coming to a halt before the wide opening, she paused, unable to ignore the raging battle within her.

Her mind weighted towards logic and rationality, yet, her thirsting soul yearned desperately for the answers which she knew lay just beyond her grasp. It was a struggle between reason and intuition, and it seemed none could be justified without dismissing the other.

Looking down, she curled her fingers into fists and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind.

This was leading her nowhere...

She had to trust her instinct and go with it. Rational thinking was out of the question. It would continue to churn forth endless streams of logical reasoning, complicating the situation even more. She sighed softly.

If only it didn't feel so wrong... if only she didn't feel as if she were betraying the trust of someone whom she cared deeply about.

Perhaps this was the only chance she would ever have to seek the answers to questions which had haunted her mind endlessly... and if so, would it not then be the right thing to do?

Only she could save herself from the clutches of the past.

Looking up, Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an effort to calm her racing heart. Fighting back her fears, she forced them open them again, strode quickly towards the entrance... and crossed the threshold.

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**A/N:** Please Review!


	4. Author's Note

**Author's note:** I'm really, really sorry but due to certain unexpected circumstances this fic will have to be put on hold for some time, probably untill the middle of next month when I get some personal issues sorted out. But before I go, I would like to thank InuLvr7 for reviewing. You've been so supportive, thank you so much. And also Shieta... that made me smile... thank you for the encouragement. 


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